


peel off the weight you've held from the start of me

by lionesses (shelbyeverdeen)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:31:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelbyeverdeen/pseuds/lionesses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU. Series of connected one-sentence drabbles that look into Jaime and Cersei's life together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	peel off the weight you've held from the start of me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goodmourning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmourning/gifts).



> This is so dumb I'm sorry this idea came when I was staying up late with Nicky and then I wrote it while I was bored in class I'm sorry

You’re five and abso-tive-ly sure you couldn’t have gotten through your first day of school without her.

You’re seven and you’re wearing each other’s clothes again.

You’re ten and you’re throwing a handful of dirt on your mother’s casket.

You’re thirteen and people can finally tell you and Cersei apart.

You’re fourteen and she’s wearing a miniskirt and all the boys are looking at her. (You don’t want to think about it.)

You’re fifteen and you hate her boyfriend.

You’re sixteen and you’ve wrecked your car and you wake up to her curled against you in a cramped hospital bed.

You’re seventeen and her kiss is gasoline and her fingers are matches striking against your skin.

You’re eighteen in your cap and gown and all you can think is she was the one who taught you to read.

You’re nineteen and the professor you’re having a meeting with doesn’t know about the lipstick marks she left on your chest.

You’re twenty and you have your father to blame for her wrath and the stubborn tears falling from her angry eyes.

You’re twenty-two and she’s smiling at you like you’re the universe.

You’re twenty-three and she just sent you a picture of herself with “yours” scrawled across her chest.

You’re twenty-five and she’s engaged and you would give anything for her not to have to do this.

You’re twenty-seven and you’d slaughter the brute if given half a chance. (You’re the one who holds her hand through the procedure.)

You’re twenty-eight and she’s squeezing your hand like she wants to break it as your son comes into the world.

You’re twenty-nine and she’s so beautiful when she’s exhausted.

You’re thirty-two and you’re holding Myrcella’s hands while she takes her first steps.

You’re thirty-three and you’re fucking her in Robert’s bed while he’s at a business meeting.

You’re thirty-five and your throat is sore from yelling at her doctors but she’s okay, she’s okay, she’s okay, she’s glowing and she’s holding another golden son in her arms. (You never want to hear the words “obstructed labor” again.)

You’re thirty-eight and it’s Joffrey’s tenth birthday and he’s crying because Robert is nowhere to be seen.

You’re forty-one and you’re fucking like teenagers on the day of her husband’s funeral.

You’re forty-three and she’s screaming and her son – your son – is dead, _murdered_ , and there’s nothing you could’ve done.

You’re forty-four and you’ve stopped thinking that she’ll ever be the same.

You’re forty-five and she’s lost two sons in two years and you have the strangest feeling this is only the start.

You’re forty-seven and the first time you see her in weeks and she’s drunk and screaming because Tyrion put the idea of a boarding school in Myrcella’s head.

You’re forty-eight and she doesn’t stop crying for hours after she gets off the phone with her daughter.

You’re fifty and you’ve loved her for half a century but that doesn’t make a goddamn difference because her children are all in the ground and all she wants is to join them.

You’re fifty-one and you leave the world the same way you came into it.

You’ve been in the ground for years and even in death she’s with you.


End file.
